


WINNER

by OstelanExcruciasm



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen, Headcanon, Kingdom Hearts III Spoilers, Kingdom Hearts ReMind, Missing Scene, Prediction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22209727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OstelanExcruciasm/pseuds/OstelanExcruciasm
Summary: There are less than 24 hours left before the final showdown between the Guardians of Light and the Seekers of Darkness.  Saïx spends some of them finishing his preparations for the battle, but most of them reflecting on how he got to where he is.  For the first time, he meets Xion, and through their training and their conversation, he slowly begins to understand what Axel saw in her.If you like On the Mend: Isa's Awakening, check this one out!
Comments: 18
Kudos: 33





	WINNER

It took every ounce of discipline Saïx possessed to force himself through that portal.

He came with one objective and completed the task quite easily, ulterior motives notwithstanding. A few moments was all he wanted, and a few moments was what he had, but when his time was up, he found that he was feeling greedy. The minutes were far too short. The words were much too few. But alas, the war wasn’t over, and there was only one night left to finish his preparations. He’d done what he’d set out to do, and it was time to go home, if the wretched place could even be called that.

He let the corridor to darkness open behind him and flashed a smug grin as he backed into it, hoping this wouldn’t be his last opportunity to smile at the man on the other side. Where the seconds had raced by while they bantered together on that familiar stone ledge, now they crawled along at a fraction of the pace, testing his resolve as he watched that blazing red hair and those vibrant green eyes slowly vanish right in front of him. The biting expression of hurt and betrayal on such a cheerful and undeserving face was nothing short of tragic. The sweet taste of sea-salt ice cream on his lips had grown bitter and unpalatable. The drumming in his chest had halted with a heavy thud. Saïx closed his eyes, unwilling to accept the souring of the last time they would ever get to talk to each other as they were. The corridor sealed at last and he left it all behind, blowing the memories away with a long, defeated sigh.

Where he used to live in a castle, now Saïx slept in what was effectively a shack by comparison, little more than a stuffy, post-apocalyptic warehouse with a fraction of the hospitality of their previous abode. The Real Organization’s new base of operations was a poorly-constructed facility inside of a cave in the Keyblade Graveyard. He resided there with a handful of other fellow Seekers of Darkness, most of whom generally kept their distance and avoided interaction with each other. Saïx, in charge of overseeing the restoration program and supervising the reserves, spent the majority of his time alone with Vexen and his unnerving collection of faceless dolls — replicas that didn’t make the cut as hosts for the reconstructed hearts of his fallen comrades. The makeshift research laboratory was as bare bones as they come, lacking even the most rudimentary equipment necessary to rebuild their team with any semblance of speed, much to the incessant chagrin of Vexen. The heat, the noise, and the boredom were beginning to wear on Saïx’s nerves, and he often stole away to a nearby cliff, letting his feet dangle below the rock face and gazing at the sky. He’d sit there for hours in silence until the fiery sun dipped below the horizon to be replaced by the gentle moon, captivated by the breathtaking sight of its soft beams reflecting off the rusted hilts of thousands of keyblades stuck into the sand below.

He took one last glance at the small memento he’d taken with him before stuffing it into his pocket. Wiping the smile from his face, he entered the facility where he was quickly intercepted by a frazzled-looking Vexen. “Where have you been?

“What business is it of yours?”

“You were supposed to be training with Xion,” Vexen retorted, exasperated. “I need to see if it functions properly.”

“Hmm,” Saïx shrugged. “Must have slipped my mind.”

He didn’t stop for a moment and he didn’t look at the man. Vexen sighed heavily, following beside him and changing his tactic. “Look, you’re not making this any easier, Saïx.”

He kept his eyes straight ahead. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Vexen stepped ahead of him and halted him in his tracks. “You know exactly what I mean. I can’t make your replicas if you won’t let me test them. If this one doesn’t work for us, then the other one won’t—”

Saïx silenced him with a finger over his lips. “Keep your voice down.”

Annoyed, Vexen waved his hand away. “There’s no one else here but you and me. Now, are you going to let me do my job, or did I sacrifice my only chance to be with my son for nothing?”

The response was unexpected. The resulting sting even more so. Saïx had long since accepted that he had a heart, even if it didn’t entirely belong to him, and was learning slowly how to integrate the emotions back into his life. He thought he’d missed them, until they bombarded him all at once when he first opened his eyes as a human. They were far more intense than he had remembered. Beautiful, but painful. A motivation, but also a distraction. Those very emotions were what landed him back in Xehanort’s employ. They were what led him to Vexen. They were what sent him to the clock tower. But at the same time, they were what kept him awake at night, staring at the ceiling and quietly reminding himself why he’d chosen this. It might have been easier without the feelings, but he preferred the pain to a life without it. And so, although he disregarded his emotions the majority of the time, he dared not take them for granted again.

Now, as he stared down the scientist before him, having taken too long picking out the proper response through the sudden rush of melancholy, he dropped the argument. Vexen had made all the same sacrifices he had. Vexen had also given up his humanity for the greater good. And, Vexen was also leaving someone he cared about behind.

“What do you need, Vexen?”

Vexen perked up, relieved to be getting back to work. “Come, I need you to complete a battle simulation with it.”

They arrived at the lab where Xion was resting unconscious in a tall, cylindrical tank. Saïx hissed at the sudden sharp twinge in his head, striking him directly between the eyes the moment he’d seen it. This incarnation had the appearance of a young girl with dark hair. She didn’t look anything like the Xion he remembered. Images of a small figure that never lowered its hood flashed across his mind — an empty puppet holding a keyblade. He’d never seen its face, never heard its voice. Who was this? Was this how the others saw her? Her true appearance?

“Why does it look like that?”

Vexen was completing a few commands in a nearby console. “Like what?”

Puzzled, but unwilling to investigate further, Saïx shook his head. “Never mind.”

Vexen activated the water drain and soon she was awake and free, coughing and sputtering as her tiny, soaked body shivered from the cold. While Saïx was throwing a towel over her naked form, he caught a glimpse of her eyes — amber, like his own. They carried a familiar shape, but the color gave them an eerie quality. He wondered to himself if they had always looked like that. If this was her true appearance, did the others see her with such haunting eyes?

“Can it speak?”

Vexen was slipping a black leather coat over her head. “It hasn’t said anything yet. But it should be quite capable.”

When she was fully dressed, Saïx led them to the field where they would practice combat. The replica kept her hood up and her face low, staring at her feet as she walked. It was at least a marked improvement that the thing was taking straight, unwavering steps to her destination, and she didn’t stumble or fall along the way.

Vexen followed closely behind, carrying a clipboard and babbling about their objectives.

“I need to see if the reconstructed heart will allow it to summon a keyblade. I’ve been having some difficulties in laboratory settings, but I wonder if being in battle will trigger the appropriate response.”

Saïx nodded, taking his place at the far end of the field and summoning his claymore. A battle with an unfinished replica would be immeasurably dull, and he anticipated yet another fight wherein he would stand motionless, blocking pitifully weak attacks from a borrowed weapon. He was growing weary of the time spent sweating bullets in the sun while replica after replica failed in some way or another. The first collapsed in the sand, unconscious as soon as the battle began. The second fought tooth and nail against a solid wall. The third just stood there, staring vacantly into the sun. Saïx had lost count of them all. Several weeks and dozens of replicas later, the Real Organization was nearly complete. This particular model, intended for Xion, was the first of its kind that showed real promise, but it would be pretty useless if she couldn’t utilize her unique abilities. The showdown was tomorrow. Time was running out for them.

“Alright, Saïx,” Vexen shouted from the other end of the field. “Be gentle with it.”

With a long exhale, Saïx approached his opponent and assumed his position. As they feared, his fighting stance was not enough to rouse her. He waited, watching as the replica focused intently on the ground, supposedly ignoring them both. Vexen was shaking his head, scribbling on his clipboard. Growing impatient, Saïx called out to her.

“Xion,” he prompted. “Come at me.”

To his surprise, she raised her head to face him. She still looked familiar, but he couldn’t place the image. It was so jarring to see her as she was and know that she was Xion. He could understand why Vexen didn’t see her — the scientist was dead before he ever got to see his replica in action. But if she took on the appearance of whomever she was programmed to copy, and if everyone perceived her differently, then why was Saïx seeing this perfect stranger when he looked at her?

At last, the replica began to move. Although there appeared to be no life behind her eyes, she slowly sank into a similar pose, mimicking Saïx’s with perfect accuracy.

“Yes! Yes, good! This is good!” Vexen was excitedly jotting down notes as he observed. “Saïx, try casting some magic and see if it reacts.”

As instructed, Saïx sent the weakest thunder attack he could manage, confident that the light shock wouldn’t hurt her. Xion didn’t budge as the lightning struck her on the shoulder, making no effort to dodge or block the attack, as if she couldn’t even see it. She yelped and staggered backward a few steps, rubbing the spot where she’d been hit. Saïx heaved a long sigh while he waited for her to recover. This was going to be a lengthy battle. The thing was weak and helpless, possibly lacking even basic sentience. If this was to be their ace in the hole, they were doomed. Sora would wipe the floor with her.

“Are you going to let him get away with that, Xion?” Vexen goaded her on, gesturing for her to seize the opportunity and deliver a counterattack. Saïx didn’t move a muscle, ready to take whatever blow she was going to land, if only to make this uneventful fight more interesting. She took a few hesitant steps in his direction, closing her eyes in intense concentration before throwing back a spark so tiny that Saïx didn’t even bother to block it. The impact was nothing more than that of a static shock.

“Brilliant!” Vexen bubbled. “Saïx, take a swing. I bet it’ll retaliate!”

 _Well, this should be interesting._ Saïx readied his weapon, pausing to see if she’d move to parry or if she’d just continue standing there. Something was different about her. Her expression had changed. She was looking right at him rather than through him. His spirits lifted only slightly when he considered that he might have at least jostled her enough to elicit some action. Feeling generous, he gave her an extra few seconds to prepare for his attack, but she was still as stone, watching him with that same peculiar look on her face.

“Hmph,” Saïx scoffed, rearing back. “Brace yourself, kid.”

When he swung his claymore, he noticed a brief reaction in her. For the most part, she was still frozen in place, accepting the attack with no attempt to avoid it, but she squeezed her eyes shut just as his weapon collided with her, knocking her to the ground with a heavy grunt. The blow was mild, and although he was aware that he hadn’t caused her any harm, when she opened her eyes, Saïx could see quite clearly the emotion behind them. She was afraid of him.

“Vexen,” he announced. “This isn’t working. It won’t fight.”

“Keep trying!” the scientist turned a page and continued jotting down notes. “Did it attempt to protect itself in any way?”

“No,” he answered. “She flinched. That’s all.”

Vexen paused, raising an eyebrow. “‘She?’ You see it as a girl?”

“What do you see?”

Vexen took a long look at her. His expression was unreadable from Saïx’s position, but he appeared to think for quite some time before answering. “I don’t see anything.”

Saïx turned back to the replica, intent on continuing the practice. Xion was still cowering in the sand, and she recoiled any time he came closer to her. “Get up,” he ordered her. She didn’t move. She didn’t even blink. He commanded her a second time. “I said get up.”

She cautiously lifted herself off the ground and was back on her feet, shaking like a leaf and awaiting another instruction. This couldn’t be the same Xion. The Xion he knew wasn’t afraid of anything. A little underconfident, perhaps, but never fearful. That replica was determined. Feisty, even. It was proactive. He could make it angry, he could make it sad, but he never could scare it. Now, she winced at every word he spoke, like a child anticipating a punishment. But, he thought to himself, perhaps this could work to their advantage. If her first emotion was going to be fear, then Saïx was going to find a way to use it.

“Block my attacks,” he warned her. “Or they’re going to hurt.”

Every subsequent round ended about the same way, with Xion on her backside and Saïx increasingly frustrated. Her technique was timid and largely defensive, and that was when she bothered to do anything. Occasionally, she would throw her arms in front of her face or cast a pitiful magic attack that fizzled out of existence before it reached her opponent, but she wasn’t really _fighting_ him. The old Xion wouldn’t sit there and take it like this. The old Xion wouldn’t cower like a scared puppy. The old Xion would have loved to beat him to a pulp and he knew it. He rushed at her again and again with his claymore, landing blow after blow, but still he hadn’t managed to knock the keyblade out of her.

“Xion, this is pathetic!” he chastised her after what must have been the twentieth time she went down. “How many times are you going to let me hit you before you fight back? You’re better than this!”

There was so much on the line. Xion was the representation of everything they stood for. The symbol of defection they needed to go forward with their plan. She was going to be the twist that upset the whole game — their only shot. If she didn’t function, they were doomed. His and Vexen’s sacrifices would have been meaningless. Much worse than that, he’d never be able to give Lea back the friend he’d lost.

He stomped toward her and took her by the wrist, lifting her off the ground and seething in her face as he scolded her under his breath. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re not the Xion I knew. If you want to walk away from the battle tomorrow with your life, you’d better find yourself a weapon.”

All the taunting in the world couldn’t draw any words from her lips. She only maintained her wide-eyed, frightened gape. She didn’t even struggle as he restrained her, never once trying to wrestle herself out of his grasp. Her face fell and she dropped her head, crestfallen, defeated.

“Look at me,” he hissed, tightening his grip on her wrist. “I’m counting on you, Xion. If you think you have what it takes, then prove it.”

He released her and marched back to his place on the other end of the field. “Vexen, I’m activating my limit break. Stand back.”

“Wait a minute, Saïx, you’ll tear it to pieces!”

“I won’t,” he assured him. “She won’t let me.”

He didn’t wait for her to prepare herself this time. Sora certainly wouldn’t afford her such a courtesy, and it was likely that Lea still didn’t remember her. There was no more time for playing games now. If they wanted to stand a chance in hell, they needed to bring out the big guns. Saïx stood in the center of the field with his arms extended, concentrating deeply. Xemnas’ artificial Kingdom Hearts was long gone, and the only other moons he knew were so far away. He reached for them with his mind, absorbing their energy and allowing his berserk form to envelop him. His vision began to warp and his thoughts took a backseat to his instinct.

His attacks became more elaborate and complicated as the battle went on. He levitated high above the ground, surrounded by a powerful aura, transforming his weapon and throwing blades at her faster than she could react. To his delight, she eventually managed to dodge a few of his attacks, and he stepped up the intensity when he was certain he had her full attention. He slammed back into the earth with a massive shockwave radiating throughout the field. Xion, seemingly unsure how to avoid it, was once again knocked onto her back with a strained cry.

“You can do better than that, puppet!” he provoked her before taking a merciful pause to prepare for some close combat. She had only just managed to climb to her feet when he struck her in the side. She lost her balance again, but miraculously did not fall. Still, Saïx didn’t wait for her to recover, only growing more savage and relentless with his attacks. Vexen was standing in a far corner, unwilling to watch as his comrade wrought destruction on his replica. The battle was hopelessly one-sided, and if it went on much longer, there was a high risk of Saïx causing real damage to it.

But, unbeknownst to either of them, Saïx was using considerable restraint as he fought with Xion. He held back on every attack, his mind still clear enough to remember that his only intention was to scare her. He remained in his berserk state, rushing toward her with heavy swings of his claymore and sustained shockwaves. It was when he had her pinned against the wall with his blade at her throat that he finally saw a flicker of promise. Her eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched. Her fingers curled tightly into fists. She was angry. There wasn’t any trace of the fear he’d seen before. Her expression was saturated with rage and determination, and the elation Saïx felt at having finally gotten through was nearly enough to knock him out of Berserk.

“That’s right,” he flashed her a sinister grin. “Get mad. Teach me a lesson.”

She threw him off of her with a forceful grunt and assumed a fighting stance. Displaying just a touch of patience, Saïx watched her, waiting to see what she might do. Her fury seemed to amplify until a soft glow could be seen emanating from her body. _At last,_ Saïx thought. _We’ve done it._ He returned to his place in the center of the arena, hovering a few feet above the ground with a set of identical blades rotating around him. If she was finally going to summon a keyblade and fight, he was going to be ready. If he wanted her to perform at her fullest potential, then he would have to make himself a formidable threat.

He repeated one of his attacks, rapidly tossing claymores at her, each one spilling out a beam of energy as it landed. He was down to the last few duplicates when he came to an abrupt halt, stunned by what he’d witnessed. Xion caught one of the blades. She was holding it in her hand, glaring menacingly at him as the glow around her developed into a familiar-looking aura. Saïx, still dumbfounded, let himself fall to the ground and approached her, increasingly wary of what he saw. Her hair was blowing wildly, though there wasn’t a single breeze outside. Her pale yellow eyes were brighter and more solid than before. _How could this be…?_

In his momentary distraction, she gained the upper hand. With a loud roar, she lunged at him, fangs bared, swinging the weapon with all of her strength. The attack struck him in the jaw and sent him flying back a few feet before collapsing to the ground. He wasn’t injured, but the unexpected blow was enough to deactivate his berserk state. Shocked and bewildered, he could only watch as she raced around the arena, performing many of the same attacks he’d used on her. She set her aim on Saïx, darting and slashing with an incredible speed that even he couldn’t match. He blocked as many hits as he could, taking only light damage as she ruthlessly wailed on him.

Vexen had dropped his clipboard with a loud clatter, gaping at the events playing out before him. The sound stopped her in her tracks and soon she turned on the scientist.

“Xion, don’t!” Saïx rushed across the field to subdue her before she could reach him. She didn’t take the bait, only batting him away like a troublesome insect as she resumed her trek toward Vexen. The scientist shrunk into the corner, pressed tightly against the wall and completely paralyzed. In desperation, Saïx lashed at her with his claymore, sending the girl to her knees. He quickly threw his arms around her shoulders, tightly restraining her while Vexen composed himself. She writhed and thrashed in his arms, still stuck in her own berserk mode, growling and fussing in an attempt to escape.

“Stop it,” he commanded her sternly. “Xion, stop.”

She likely had no idea how to deactivate the berserk, and even if she did, she was too weak and inexperienced to control it. Furthermore, she was so fragile, she couldn’t possibly withstand another beating. With very few options left, Saïx desperately hoped that he could avoid any more violence and instead talk her down.

“That’s enough, Xion. Relax.”

It was working. He could feel her letting go. He sighed, relieved that he wouldn’t have to injure her to bring her back. “That’s it,” he muttered. “Calm down. Cast it off and return to your true self.”

Her squirming body went limp, and Saïx felt that it was safe to release her. He lifted his hands and she stayed frozen in place, once again staring at the ground as she had before. Finally having a chance to catch his breath, Saïx turned to Vexen, unsure how to even begin to articulate his confusion.

“What the hell was that, Vexen?”

The scientist shrugged, equally perplexed. “I’m as baffled as you are. It should have just drawn its keyblade.”

“How can she Berserk? She never had that power before!”

Sighing, Vexen stroked his chin, dropping his eyes in thought. He contemplated silently for a few seconds before offering a theory. “It was originally designed to siphon power. I suppose it started absorbing yours.”

As Saïx watched Xion come down from her startling episode, he questioned whether this replica would ever become the Xion that had befriended Lea and Roxas. What might become of her if she continued to drain power from Saïx instead of Sora? If she was truly siphoning his essence, so much so that she could already copy his abilities, then this harrowing set of circumstances could only lead in one direction — Xion would get stronger, and _Saïx_ would get weaker, and eventually, she would transform into a copy of him.

“So, she’ll drain me,” he concluded. “And I’ll be up against four Guardians of Light, weakened to half my capacity.”

Vexen arched an eyebrow in response. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Saïx paused, exhaling slowly. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

The three of them exited the arena and returned to Vexen’s lab, where he plunked Xion into a chair, allowing her to remain conscious while he booted up a nearby computer terminal.

“I’ll make a few more adjustments,” he sighed. “I’ve been in contact with Demyx. He will be here early tomorrow morning to collect the other one.”

He kept his eyes on the screen, rapidly typing in commands and furrowing his brow at the data. Saïx watched quietly as the replica sat there, that same blank stare in her eyes, entirely oblivious to her role in this mess. Everything hinged on this child and her other half. They alone would be responsible for tipping the scales in the Guardians’ favor. Saïx knelt before her, their matching eyes locking as she saw him. Her expression shifted immediately. It was so transparent, easy to read. He recognized her confusion and trepidation, lamenting that fear and anger were all she’d mastered so far. He might never have the chance to see her happy, and found himself surprised that he was bothered by the notion. He supposed he would have liked to see the girl that Lea knew. The girl he would trust with the man’s heart after he was gone. He wanted to see a glimmer of optimism in a hopeless situation. He took comfort, however, in knowing that her face did not mirror the sadness of her companions now. She deserved this chance to be spared that pain.

“Vexen,” Saïx inquired softly. “Where will you go?”

Vexen was silent for some time, looking pensive and forlorn. He took a long breath before giving an answer. “Radiant Garden. As soon as I get word that the plan was successful, I’m going home.”

“You think Ienzo will have the fortitude to oblige your request?”

The scientist’s breath hitched. He hid his face, but Saïx could clearly hear the waver in his voice. “I would rather it be him than Aeleus or Dilan.”

Saïx had known Vexen for many years. Joining Ansem’s Apprentices with Lea in his youth, Vexen was one of the first people he met, and one of the first enemies he’d made. Two rambunctious teens who always got in his way, making messes, misbehaving, getting into trouble, picking on Ienzo — Saïx was sure they’d put a fair few gray hairs on the man’s head. But by the time they’d outgrown such childish antics, their hearts were gone, and what used to be a pair of bright-eyed boys had grown into cold, broken men. Saïx lamented that they’d never really answered for their misdeeds back then, and even as he begged the man to rejoin the Organization and help him stop this keyblade war in its tracks, he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

“I’m sorry, Even.”

The scientist started at the sound of his human name, finally turning to face his comrade, baring the emotion welling in his eyes. “Don’t be,” he replied, resolute in his decision. “I chose this. It had to be this way.”

In that solemn moment, when it was clear that their exchange was through, Saïx wished for hope. They’d come back once before. There was still a chance, however slim, that they could be recompleted again. But the circumstances were different this time. Xemnas’ artificial Kingdom Hearts had returned their hearts to their human bodies when it was destroyed previously. But now, they couldn’t be certain that the real Kingdom Hearts, wherever it was, would be so generous. They couldn’t even guarantee that their hearts were being stored there at all. The most likely outcome of this showdown would be the demise of all thirteen Seekers of Darkness. It was the only way to ensure that Xehanort would be erased from the universe for good. But not much consideration had been given for the reserves. To think that poor Vexen and Demyx would have to find some other means to purge themselves of Xehanort’s foul essence was so deplorable that it turned Saïx’s stomach.

He wandered away from the lab, finding himself just aimlessly meandering through the halls with no destination in mind. Their new headquarters had no windows from which to gaze at the moon. The air was stale, almost unbreathable. What he wouldn’t have given to go back to the clock tower, just to sit in that same place again and pretend that he wasn’t alone. There was so much more he’d wanted to say. The words lingered on his tongue, begging to be delivered, but he bit them back. Their plan surely would have failed if he’d said too much. No, it was necessary to leave the man on that note. It was necessary to hurt him again. Lea needed that motivation, that extra bit of fuel for his fire. He might not have played his part otherwise.

Saïx became so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed Xigbar approaching him with that same sly grin he always wore. Just his luck, it was the last man Saïx wanted to see.

“Saïx! I was just lookin’ for ya!”

Without even turning his head, Saïx rebuked him with his usual flat tone. “He’s not here. I’ll take a message, if you wish.”

“Aw, come on, man. How did things go with the new Xion?”

“I think if she really works hard and does her very best, she just might get her ass kicked tomorrow.”

“Yikes,” Xigbar cringed. “That bad, huh?”

The feeble attempts at polite conversation were aggravating, and Saïx snapped impatiently. “Is there something I can do for you, Xigbar?”

“I just want to talk! You and I never get to chat anymore.”

Saïx narrowed his eyes, suspicious of such an uncharacteristic request. “What do you want to talk about?”

“We can talk about where you went today.”

At this, Saïx halted his trek, facing straight ahead and answering without a hint of animation in his voice. “I went to Twilight Town. I ate ice cream.”

“All by yourself, eh?”

He was beginning to wonder just what the man had to gain from questions like this. Xigbar never had any interest in small talk, and certainly wasn’t the type to be friendly with his comrades. Perhaps he was on to them and trying to investigate their plans. Saïx kept his guard up, saying nothing and walking toward the exit with purpose. Xigbar followed him, matching his pace from a few feet behind. Just as Saïx was deciding how he’d shake him off, he spoke. It was the sudden change in his timbre and the chilling observation he’d made that brought them both to another stop.

“You miss him.”

They faced each other now. Xigbar’s irritating grin was gone, replaced with a downcast expression so jarring that Saïx hardly recognized him. So, the man hadn’t come to question him. He’d come to commiserate. Unfortunately for him, Saïx was not interested. He could speak for no one else, but he was growing weary of all the sadness in the atmosphere. It was apparent that everyone was finally realizing that they were goats at the altar, counting down the hours they had left before they were slaughtered en masse. Were they all planning to meet their deaths with their eyes to the ground and weeping instead of holding their heads high and dying with dignity?

Saïx wore the answer to Xigbar’s comment on his face, preferring not to speak it aloud. In that moment of vulnerability, he allowed the man a brief glimpse of his heart before turning to go. “I’m tired, Xigbar. I think I’ll turn in early.”

“Wait, Saïx,” Xigbar called to him, reaching for his coat and gently clasping his sleeve. “I don’t like this any more than you do. But we’re almost done. You gotta stick it out for one more day and it’s over.”

“And what about you?”

“Me?” he smirked, waving the concerns away. “If those brats don’t get the job done, I’ll take matters into my own hands.”

It was clear just by looking at him that Xigbar was tired too. Not just physically, but emotionally drained and mentally exhausted. It never really was clear just why, but Saïx knew that for Xigbar, escape would never be so easy. Xemnas — Xehanort, really — had sunk his claws deeper into him than anyone else in the Organization, and it was inevitable that they would rope him back in first. The poor man was stuck. Saïx could look forward to a swift death tomorrow, but it was clear from the almost despondent look in his eye that Xigbar had no such luxury. Regret was visible in his expression as painful tension in his brow. Desperation for release was audible in his voice — a strained, weary cadence that Saïx almost didn’t recognize. His resolve hung by a thread that threatened to snap at any moment. He had no more energy, no more fight left in him. He’d simply had enough. He was _tired._

Saïx, overcome with pity for his old friend, could think of nothing more to say. “Goodnight,“ he whispered. “Braig.”

“Tomorrow, man.”

* * *

If Saïx had any sense at all, he would have at least _tried_ to sleep before the battle tomorrow. His body was fatigued, but his mind was wide awake. His thoughts raced a mile a minute, and he didn’t bother trying to stop them. Little moments, fragments of memories glanced by, lingering just long enough for him to remember, but not enough to live in them just one last time. He saw himself, his victories and his failures, his mistakes, all the decisions that led him to that stone ledge where he sat now. He saw his wishes, his hopes and dreams, all the ambitious desires of the foolish teenager he used to be. He saw the future he never had, the purpose he’d never achieved. He saw everything he had ever felt — joy and elation, pain and anguish. And he saw Lea. Lea, the happy child with the world at his fingertips. Lea, the driven, reckless youth who believed he was immortal. Lea, the heartbroken man who’d lost everything he cared about. Lea, his best friend. Saïx had heard that in the few seconds before death, one’s entire life would flash before their eyes. How cruel it was that he should experience such a phenomenon for so many hours before he could finally be put out of his misery.

He kept his eyes on the heavens, gazing at the moon as he always would — the last moon he would ever see. Most of it was hidden in shadow, and the very last sliver of a waning crescent shone brightly overhead. Normally a beautiful sight, it now looked somewhat eerie and invoked an odd sense of sadness in him. Tomorrow, there would be no more moon in the sky. It was just as well, Saïx supposed. He wouldn’t be there to see it anyway.

He was jolted back to reality by the meek sound of a young girl’s voice.

“S-Saïx.”

He turned to find none other than Xion standing behind him, looking as timid as ever. “So, you _can_ speak.”

She stepped forward, wringing her hands and staring at her feet. “Vexen told me I should sleep… but I couldn’t.”

On any other night, Saïx would have sent her away. That cliff was his hiding place. He intentionally isolated himself there and nobody ever bothered him. But now, he took no comfort in being alone. Perhaps he was feeling sentimental because this night would be his last. Maybe the visit to the clock tower had tugged at one too many of his heartstrings. Whatever the reason, some small part of him appreciated Xion’s company.

He nodded, gesturing to the bare rock beside him. “Neither could I.”

At first, she only stared at the open space he indicated with a disproportionately intense look in her eyes. He supposed that if a replica had thoughts, hers were probably barreling through her mind as fast as his were. Little by little, she coaxed herself to the edge of the rock face to join him, and they sat in silence for a long while. She mimicked his position in almost every way, right down to crossing one leg over the other. Her one exception was to keep her head down, watching the ground instead of the sky. After some time, Saïx found that he couldn’t concentrate on the moon either, eventually letting his gaze settle on her. Many times she looked like she might say something or ask a question, only to lose her nerve and hold her tongue. Buzzing with curiosity, he very nearly opened a dialogue himself, but in his own bit of mimicry, he was just as lost for words as she was.

“Can I… Can I ask you something?”

Surprised that she was the first to speak, he obliged her, if only to sate his own curiosity. “What is it?”

It now appeared that she may have regretted asking, as if she no longer wanted to know the answer. “Earlier today, you said that you were counting on me,” she began. “I was wondering… what you meant by that.”

Saïx pursed his lips, momentarily stunned to find that she could comprehend everything he’d said to her that afternoon. The question caught him off-guard, and for a moment he wasn’t sure how to respond. He had many answers for her, yet not one of them could he speak out loud, lest he insert another uncontrolled variable and ruin everything. All the same, she likely wouldn’t understand the purpose he’d thrust upon her. He was counting on her to reawaken as the Xion she was meant to be. To coax Roxas out of Sora and upset the war against the Seekers of Darkness. To take good care of Lea, mend a broken heart and ease a bitter man’s regrets. His dying wishes, his final requests. It was all meaningless to her.

“There will come a time when you will understand. I’m not sure I can explain it now.”

Her face fell, blending disappointment into her expression. “Is… Is it because I’m supposed to carry a keyblade?”

She was staring intently at her hands as if the answers were etched into her palms. Saïx pitied her. He was well aware that Xion had been in this exact position before. It was all part of Xemnas’ plan that one of the two keyblade wielders would be effectively absorbed by the other. The entire year she spent alive was a constant battle of two people over one weapon — a battle that Xion had ultimately lost.

He released a shuddering exhale. “It’s something like that.”

For just a second, Saïx considered spilling it all — the tragedy that was Xion’s short life. He wondered if he shouldn’t just tell her who and what she was and why she was needed. She deserved to know how cruel fate had been to her and that this was her one chance at a decent future. She deserved to know that she had friends waiting for her on the other side. There really was no sense in hiding it all from her. Perhaps they had nothing to lose. Perhaps they had everything to lose. Saïx couldn’t decide, really. He could only be certain of what they lacked — time.

“Saïx, I… I’d like to try again,” she requested, sounding slightly more determined. “To summon my keyblade. Will you train with me?”

Her work ethic, her dedication, shouldn’t have surprised him. He should have expected the resolute gleam in her eyes. While he sat sulking on that ledge all night, she still bore a hint of optimism, potent enough to stoke her inner fire and light up her spirit. The girl had spunk, perseverance, and a drive to succeed that put her comrades to shame. Perhaps she carried a little piece of Sora with her after all.

Saïx pulled himself up, welcoming the stiff breeze that blew through his hair. It was possible — probable, maybe — that all the training in the world would not draw the keyblade out of her. All of their hard work could be for naught. But, he conceded, it was better than sitting on that cliff and moping. He extended a hand and carefully lifted her to her feet, and they walked silently together until they had reached the training field. Already she was exceedingly tense and winded. She stood in the center of the arena, cracking her knuckles, stretching her joints and breathing so heavily Saïx feared she might faint.

“Xion,” he laid a hand on her shoulder to settle her trembling frame. “We haven’t done anything yet. Relax.”

She gasped, flinching at his touch. He might have felt a twinge of guilt for startling her when he felt the shudder rippling through her bones, but he tightened his grasp to keep her grounded. She was nervous enough for the both of them — he wasn’t about to let himself shy away from her now.

When he felt the vibrations slow, he began the lesson. “Good. Now, take a deep breath.”

She complied, and he led her in several more until, exasperated, she questioned the exercise. “This is making me dizzy. Why are we doing this?”

“Because,” he gently maneuvered her shoulder, revealing the lingering tension in her musculature. “You are not relaxed.”

She sighed. “You’re making me nervous.”

“Am I?” he raised an eyebrow. “Good. Familiarize yourself with that sensation. You’ll likely encounter it many more times tomorrow.”

“Do you get nervous?”

Saïx said nothing at first. It was so like her to try and get under her opponent’s skin in that way. Or rather, it was like _Sora_ to seek out the humanity in his enemies and connect with it, wearing down his foes with the sheer force of his compassion. Then again, Saïx remembered, Sora had killed almost the entirety of Organization XIII in cold blood. He wondered if Xion possessed the same ruthless nature that had driven the boy to such extreme measures. If so, it was now his job to access it.

“To summon your weapon is an instinct, Xion. It must come to you as naturally as breathing,” he continued. “Even a brief second spent in conscious thought is enough for your foe to take you out. You will die, never having the chance to draw your blade.”

He released her shoulder and took a step back, letting her stand on her own and feel the energy without his influence. “Close your eyes,” he instructed. “Don’t think. Just feel.”

 _What is_ with _this guy?_ Xion couldn’t begin to fathom what sort of mental discipline this man could boast to be able to just stop thinking whenever he wanted. Her mind raced endlessly from the very moment she’d awakened and hadn’t slowed down for even a second. She was constantly observing and learning. Thinking, feeling. Worrying. It was all so overwhelming that she couldn't even speak at first. How could she be useful if she couldn’t fight? How could she call her weapon without thinking? And how was she supposed to stop thinking when Saïx was staring at her like that?

 _Don’t think… Just feel…_ She closed her eyes. Images and noise flooded through her mind, pouring from a faucet that she couldn’t shut off. She could see people she didn’t recognize, yet who seemed hauntingly familiar to her. Moving figures walked beside her like companions, pounced toward her like beasts on the hunt, or stood solemnly behind her as she turned away. Faces lifted with smiles and fell with tears. Voices whispered, laughed, and cried. Her memories bombarded her until she worried her head would explode. Exerting all of the willpower she could muster, she fought them away, working to clear her mind of all thought and throw herself into pitch blackness as was commanded of her.

Saïx’s voice prompted her. “Do you see it?”

She wasn’t entirely certain what she saw. It was definitely a weapon. It’s shape was largely undefined and its colors were blurred, but it was some sort of sword. Probably. “Yes… I think so…”

“That’s not good enough. The image must be clear in your mind, so much so that you can recall every detail,” he said sternly. “Concentrate.”

She dug her heels into the ground, clenching her fists as she reached into the darkness. The keyblade was in there somewhere, she just had to find it. Her outstretched hand clawed at the void, clasping her fingers around a golden hilt. The metal was smooth and cold. The weapon was balanced, not too heavy, not too light. She could swing it effortlessly, sending ribbons of silver flashing by. The vibrations radiated from the blade and through her arm, right into her very center. The weapon moved with her, freely and naturally, as if it were just another one of her limbs.

“I… I can feel it. It’s there.”

“Excellent. Now, show it to me.”

She reached her hand in front of her, wide open in anticipation. Her eyes squeezed shut and she’d stopped breathing altogether. Her tiny body contorted with the magnitude of her effort as she concentrated intently on commanding the keyblade into existence. A memory struck her, hazy, but persistent enough to distract her. She could see another hand extended toward her, holding a weapon. Offering it to her, flashing a friendly smile all along. She tried to take it, but it was too far away, just outside the range of her grasp. The smiling face faded from view and she found herself standing in the training arena once more, slumped in exhaustion, huffing and panting.

“That was a worthy attempt,” Saïx praised her. “But you are trying too hard. Relax.”

She blew out a few hard exhales and gritted her teeth. Seconds passed. The weapon before her was changing shape. The smiling face was replaced with intense eyes. She shook violently, but whether with exertion or anxiety, she could not say.

“Focus, Xion.”

“I’m trying!”

“You mustn’t think so much. Use your instincts.”

Saïx watched tensely as she tried again and again to will her keyblade to life. Nearly an hour passed and they were no closer to achieving their goal. On her last attempt, he saw that same dark aura forming around her outline, radiating off her quaking form. Alarmed, he rushed to stop her before she could be overtaken.

“Enough, Xion,” he ordered her. “Stop.”

She released the pressure in her body and hunched over, wheezing heavily with her hands resting on her knees, entirely drained of energy. “D-Did it work?”

“A commendable effort,” he replied, shaking his head. “But I saw no keyblade.”

Sighing heavily, Xion hung her head. “It’s hopeless. I really am a failure…”

He gasped, startled by what felt like a fierce electric shock inside his chest. “Failure? Where did you hear that?”

She pressed her fingers to her forehead, wincing as she concentrated. “I don’t know, I… I can’t remember…”

A beat passed. Saïx clenched his jaw, masking his troubled expression with the same empty glower he always wore. Swallowing down the sudden surge of emotion, he rose to his feet to resume the lesson. “Let’s try again.”

With a snap of his fingers, a trio of Dusks appeared between them, swaying and undulating in place as they awaited his instructions. Xion cocked her head, perplexed. “Dusks? Why?”

“I’ve ordered them to attack you. Perhaps your instinct for self-preservation will coax the keyblade out of you.”

She gulped. He waved his arm and the creatures were now sauntering toward her. She sank into her fighting stance, preparing to take them on. _Don’t think… Just feel…_ She focused on her target, letting herself breathe, begging the keyblade to fall into her hands. _Don’t think… Just feel…_ The Dusks were getting too close. She cast a thunder spell to keep them at bay. _Don’t think… Just feel…_ Saïx was just standing there, watching her with his arms crossed. Over and over she called out to her weapon to no avail. The creatures closed in again, surrounding her. In her nerves, she froze, and one of the Dusks swiped at her, carving a mean gash into her arm.

“Ouch!” she staggered back, clutching her injured limb. Saïx was hurrying toward her, calling off the creatures, but she paid him no mind. Fury was boiling inside her. It was so simple. It was supposed to be an instinct. He told her it should come as naturally as breathing. She caught sight of the blood leaking down her elbow and her rage skyrocketed. She blinked and everything went dark. In an instant, she was holding a weapon. It was large and heavy, with a ring of spikes along the bottom of the blade — a claymore, identical to the one Saïx used.

With a forceful grunt, she swung the blade across the air, taking out all three Dusks with one swift blow. As they vanished into a cloud of smoke, she saw Saïx, staring open-mouthed at her in shock. It was over. All this work and she still couldn’t do it. She threw the claymore into the dirt and collapsed to her knees in defeat. She was weak. She was defective. She was useless.

“Damn it!” she cried angrily. “Why can’t I do it?! What’s wrong with me?!”

“Are you alright?” Saïx knelt beside her, gently taking her arm. “Let me see it.”

“I’ll blow everything if I can’t use the keyblade!”

“Hold still, Xion…”

Tears of frustration sprang to her eyes. “You said you’re counting on me… You said I’m not the Xion you knew… You told me to prove that I have what it takes, but I can’t! I can’t do it!”

The injury was minor enough to be erased with a healing spell, but the crushing sense of discouragement and hopelessness was not so easily cured. The crestfallen look in her pale, amber eyes was haunting enough to compel Saïx to avert his own. This was his fault. He’d been certain that the appearance of a keyblade would be the definitive signal that Xion had awakened as her true self again. Only then could he rest assured that he’d fulfilled his promise of bringing her back. In his zeal to alleviate his own guilt, he’d thrown more pressure her way, harming her just as much now as he had back then.

“Xion, listen to me,” he took her by the shoulders. “You _can_ do it. You _do_ have what it takes, and you _are_ the very same Xion who defied all odds and grew her own identity from nothing. The very same Xion I knew.”

Her tears had slowed and the anger dissolved into sorrow. “Whoever I used to be… I’m not her anymore. I’ve failed. I’m nothing more than a useless puppet, just like they said…”

Saïx was left speechless again, his voice choked off by his own remorse. What he wouldn’t have given to take back every biting word he’d said to her in the past. It tore him up to see the results of his despicable handiwork in this poor, traumatized child struggling under the heavy burden she’d been forced to carry. Her life was unfair enough. She deserved so much better than the hand she’d been dealt. Saïx had lost sight of his purpose yet again. He’d forgotten that, at the end of the day, he was doing this for her. For Roxas, for Lea. He vowed to right his wrongs and unite the three of them or die trying.

He needed to connect with her, to see her eyes. He gingerly lifted her chin until her face met his. He could see her humanity, her heart. He saw Roxas, Sora, Lea, Kairi… they were all in there, giving her strength. That power, that bond would be her weapon. It was impossible for her to fail.

“Whoever told you that,” he firmly declared. “Was a fool.”

She cried for a long while there in the sand. Lost for words, Saïx only sat beside her, quietly reflecting until her tears finally dissipated. It was late, the two were spent, and together they left the arena to go their separate ways. He eventually wound up in bed, staring at the ceiling again. He wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. There was too much on his mind. The same flurry of memories was still raging out of control through his head. Emotions glanced at his skin like blades, cutting just deep enough to hurt, but not enough to do any real damage. Not enough to kill him.

He reached into his pocket once more, pulling out his treasured keepsake and clutching it tightly in his palm. He nearly laughed out loud when he’d received it, endeared by fate’s misguided attempts to lift his spirit with meaningless subliminal messages. Tomorrow, Saïx would march straight into a battle that he could never win. He would play his part as it was written, and then he would perish unceremoniously in the sand. There was no sense indulging in idle fantasies of walking away a victor alongside his former best friend. He’d long since accepted that he had already lost. It had been etched.

_Why did you buy three of them?_

He read the sign over and over until the letters blurred together. The lingering sense of melancholy in his heart was puzzling to him. He’d chosen this. He knew what he was getting himself into. Just as Vexen had reminded him, it was exactly what he wanted. Yet now, on the very eve of what would effectively be his execution, he had second thoughts. He was just beginning to understand Xion. The child was still such a mystery, one that he lamented he’d never have the time to solve, but he was finally learning who she truly was. He was seeing the girl that Lea knew and cared deeply for, and finding himself just as drawn to her. How long had it been since Saïx had had a friend? How many years had he spent growing accustomed to loneliness, only to now remember just how painful a sensation it was?

 _I’m even dragging_ you _home!_

It was when he heard that vow pass Lea’s lips that Saïx knew the message he’d received would come true. How terribly he missed that man. How desperately he longed to see those words come true. They were the very reason he was depending so heavily upon Xion. However inadvertently, it seemed that she now carried a piece of Saïx with her, and she would go with Lea in his stead. In a way, the man would be dragging his old friend home just as he promised. Perhaps then, the two wouldn’t really be apart. Perhaps he hadn’t really lost after all. Through Xion, he could finally escape, and wherever he would go, he would be free. As long as he was out of Xehanort’s grasp, he was as good as home.

Maybe, he thought, in losing, he would be a winner too.

* * *

It was obvious that Vexen hadn’t slept all night. His puffy, bloodshot eyes were lined with dark circles and there were deep grooves in his brow. His demeanor was sluggish and terse. Xion watched quietly as he typed rapidly into his computer console, his head darting back and forth between screens, monitors, and a blank replica floating in a tank beside him, much like the one where she had been stored. She had asked him who it was meant for, but only received vague answers in return. She figured it made sense that they would want to replace her. She had failed to summon the keyblade and would be useless in the war. It was perfectly logical to scrap the faulty replica and start over with a new one. Now, it was just a matter of waiting for the moment when the scientist would shut her down and line her up with the other defective specimens in the corner.

She lowered her head, brushing at her arms when her skin began to crawl inside her coat. There was no comfort in logic or sensibility. She’d been told that any one of them could fall in battle today. That casualties were just another part of war. Saïx was ready to face death with his head held high, but she simply couldn’t match his resolve. Vexen would quietly accept death, sullen and regretful, but secure in his decision. Xion possessed no such confidence. Xigbar planned to seek out death if it didn’t find him first, but she wasn’t nearly so courageous. She was scared. She didn’t want to die.

“Vexen, am I broken?”

He paused, raising an eyebrow. “Of course not. Why do you ask?”

She wasn’t prepared to elaborate. She could barely articulate what she wanted to say. It was all so new to her. “I feel a lot of things…” she began, listing off as much as she could recognize. “I’m worried a lot because I can’t summon my keyblade. I’m nervous about this battle. I feel sort of… sad, I think. Everyone else seems sad and it makes me feel sad too. And…” she took a breath. “I’m really scared.”

Vexen just stared at her for a long time. She couldn’t read his face at all, but the longer she studied it, the clearer it seemed to be. She could see the uplifting gleam of happiness in his eyes, perhaps with an almost prideful quality to his expression. But it was mixed in with the same sorrow everyone in the facility was wearing. It almost put her at ease to see that he could feel multiple emotions at once, too.

“You’re not defective, Xion,” he answered softly. “You’re functioning exactly as you were designed to.”

He returned to his work and she was left to reflect. There were still some hours left before the battle, but she saw little point to training anymore. She could tell that Saïx had lost his confidence in her, and was already preparing to lose this war.

“Vexen,” she whispered. “What will happen to me?”

He’d tried to conceal it, but she saw him cringe at her question. “I’m afraid I can’t say.”

“You won’t tell me?”

He shook his head, sighing. “I don’t know.”

She wasn’t really sure whether or not to believe the man, but the weary look in his eyes was all the indication she needed. He didn’t want to talk, and she let the matter drop. He probably had enough on his plate without her getting in the way.

It was still quite early. The sun had not yet risen, and she figured even Saïx might not have been awake yet. As ordered, she had tried to sleep, only to fail spectacularly at every attempt. Any time she closed her eyes and drifted away, she was plagued by haunting dreams. All night she watched as blurry images of herself attacked people she didn’t recognize. She saw a tall, hooded figure torturing another with burning beams of light. She heard a familiar voice calling her name, speaking from the face of someone she’d never seen. Even more frightening than the visions were the emotions she could feel. The fear was more potent than that which she experienced in her waking life. There was no anger, but crushing sadness and grief. She could feel a deep connection to her victims, but no matter how many times she blinked, she couldn’t make out who they were. Several times her eyes sprung open and she shot up in bed, covered in sweat and scarcely able to breathe, and eventually she abandoned the endeavor altogether.

She was about to get up and leave when she heard the whoosh of a dark corridor opening behind her. She whipped her head around just in time to see a young man walking through, yawning and stretching his arms.

“‘Morning, science guy! The fun has arrived!”

Vexen glared at him. “You’re late, Demyx.”

“Well _excuse me,_ Vexen,” the guest sneered. “I overslept. That’s what you get when you schedule deliveries for dark-thirty in the morning!”

“Keep your voice down!” Vexen hissed. “You’ll wake the entire facility!”

Demyx rolled his eyes. “Jeez, alright, alright. So, is it ready?”

Vexen was completing the last few commands on his computer. “I’ve nearly finished. Where is Ansem the Wise?”

“He’s safe,” Demyx answered quietly. “He wanted to lay low so he wouldn’t jeopardize the plan.”

Vexen returned to his screen, finishing his inputs while Demyx wandered around the lab, examining the various devices and papers and other specimens until he saw Xion. Startled, he jumped at the sight of her, clutching his chest and squealing. “Xion! It’s really you! You’re back!”

Vexen gasped at the exclamation. “Demyx, would you shut up—?!”

“I’m so happy to see you!” he threw his arms around her and squeezed her tightly. Xion remained stiff and paralyzed, her unblinking eyes wide as dinner plates. She could barely breathe, although whether it was the hug, the nerves, or his strong cologne, she wasn’t sure. After several awkward seconds wherein she didn’t reciprocate the embrace, Demyx pulled away with a puzzled look.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you remember me?”

She stared at him without a word. He seemed like a nice man, and she wished that she could recognize him. Based on his greeting, they must have been close, and she lamented the loss of what were probably very pleasant memories. But, try as she did, she had no recollection of him. She dropped her eyes, just as disappointed as he was. Demyx was visibly crushed, his whole body slumping with sadness. “I see…”

“Don’t take it personally,” Vexen chimed in. “She doesn’t remember any of us yet.”

“Really? Well, then I’ll just have to jog your memory!” he snapped his fingers and a large, stringed instrument appeared in his hand. “How about I play you a song?”

Vexen jumped out of his seat. “Demyx, don’t—!”

“What the hell is all this racket?”

It was Saïx who had appeared in the doorway, his arms crossed and glaring at the young visitor. Demyx sighed heavily, dismissing his instrument and folding his own arms in defiance. “Well, if it isn’t Señor Buzzkill. Good morning to you, too.”

“Demyx, I am trusting you with a very important task. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Pfft,” Demyx scoffed. “When have I ever let you down? You know I’m your guy. I’ll get the job done _right!”_

The two locked eyes for a lengthy beat, each daring the other to break and neither one intimidated by the other. Then, with a softened expression, Saïx visibly relaxed his posture and patted his young comrade on the shoulder. “I know you will.”

Thoroughly stunned by the gesture, Demyx gaped at him in response — a reaction which Saïx dutifully ignored. Vexen, finished with his work, activated the water drain and released the empty replica from its containment tank. Xion watched curiously as they wrapped the body in a white sheet. It was so blank and lifeless — like a doll, she thought. It had no face, no hair, no discernible features of any kind. She began to wonder if she’d looked like that at first, and at what point had she taken her current appearance.

With the preparations complete, Demyx slung the vessel over his shoulder, staggering slightly under its weight. “Jeez, Vexen, did you have to make it weigh a ton?” he grunted, shifting the body slightly in his grasp.

Vexen only shook his head with an exasperated sigh. “Be careful with it, Demyx,” he pleaded. “It’s the only one I have.”

Demyx grinned and gave him a thumbs up. “You can count on me, dude.”

“And Demyx…” the scientist dropped his head and was wringing his hands. “When you see Ienzo, tell him…” he paused for a shaky breath. “Tell him that I will be there soon.”

It was the second out-of-character expression of sentimentality that Demyx had witnessed that morning from one of his comrades, and he was again shocked by such a display. But, genuinely moved by the real emotion washing over the old apprentice, he could not contain his sympathy, and returned with a warmer, more sincere smile. “I will.”

After a nod shared between the three men, Demyx saluted to his companions, opened a dark corridor and disappeared from the lab with the replica in tow. Vexen’s body slumped as he leaned heavily against the desk with his head in his hands. The room was uncomfortably silent for a few moments, only broken when Saïx cautiously approached him.

“Are you alright?”

Vexen released a trembling sigh, stricken with grief. “There was so much more that I wanted to say…”

Saïx gripped his shoulder. “You’ll have a chance to say it. All of it,” he assured him. “We’re almost there, Even.”

Although Saïx did not return Vexen’s appreciative, weary smile, Xion could feel the sudden warmth in his demeanor from across the room. The look they shared seemed to tell a story, and she found herself listening intently in the silence. She’d missed the beginning, and she would never hear the end, but the poignant fragments she’d caught left her with a familiar heaviness behind her eyes. She’d seen the same look with Xigbar, even with Demyx. It was the same tale, told from different perspectives, all contributing a piece to a long narrative on the history between these men. They must have been friends before, she gathered. Maybe even closer than that — family perhaps. Xion wondered what it felt like to connect so deeply to another person. What it was like to have friends, a family. She wanted to feel what her comrades felt. Even if it was grief and anguish, she could at least experience that uniquely human bond, how beautiful it was to be so close to someone, and how painful it would be to lose them.

Saïx and Vexen parted when he sent the man off to rest. Watching him go, Saïx took several long breaths, still stuck in that moment for a short while longer. When he was composed, he turned to Xion who had been sitting quietly in the corner throughout the entire exchange.

“How are you feeling, Xion?”

“I’m okay,” she answered softly. “Why was Vexen crying?”

He seemed to battle with his response for a moment. “Vexen misses someone. When he rejoined the Organization, he left somebody very special to him behind.”

“That’s sad…”

Saïx didn’t speak again for some time after the two had left the lab. They walked the halls together in silence, both immersed in thoughts and emotions so sharp and vicious that they seemed to puncture right through the sternum and pierce the heart. And yet, the air was lighter than it was before. Xion glanced at her companion to see that he wore his usual stoicism, devoid of the pain or warmth she’d seen only minutes ago. Once again, she found herself curious. It seemed that he spent just as much time lost in his own mind as she did inside hers, and she wondered just what sort of thoughts or feelings he had. She wondered if he could laugh like Demyx or cry like Vexen. She wondered if he worried like she did. She wondered if he had nightmares like hers.

“Do you miss someone?” she asked somewhat apprehensively. She knew the man was guarded, like he had ten-foot walls built all around him, but she held onto the hope that there might be a tiny crack somewhere in the concrete. If they only had the rest of today to understand each other, she was going to make the most of it. “Did you leave someone special behind?”

The pause that followed her question was so long that Xion wondered if he’d answer her at all. She restored the emotional distance between them, feeling a bit guilty for prodding him in what appeared to be such a sore spot. But to her surprise, he turned to her, revealing just a glimpse of the pain he so expertly masked behind his icy calm.

“Yes,” he muttered solemnly. “I did.”

She followed him aimlessly as he wandered the grounds, relieved that he didn’t seem to mind the company. In every waking moment, Xion’s mind was a typhoon of noise. An endless slideshow of unfamiliar images, a grating cacophony of emotions, and an endless string of burning questions she was too nervous to ask. What was the purpose of all this pain? Was this war? A collection of men sacrificing themselves for a cause they didn’t believe in? Thirteen people, lost and afraid, marching right into their graves? Tears of regret, bitten back instead of shed, while friends afflicted by the same agonizing sorrow locked eyes and said nothing? And, as little more than a broken soldier, thrust into battle without a weapon, what was her role in all of this?

“Saïx,” she spoke up. “Why are we doing this?”

When he didn’t respond right away, she continued. “Everyone is acting like we’re going to lose. Like it’s hopeless. Why even bother fighting in a war that we can’t win?”

He spent a few seconds in thought as microscopic flashes of emotion spread across his face. “We are doing this,” he sighed. “Because we have to.”

The answer was infuriatingly vague. She was tired of being in the dark, as if these men didn’t think she was smart enough to comprehend their motivations. Frustrated, she huffed, crossing her arms almost indignantly. “I don’t understand…”

He seemed hesitant to go on, but relented after only a moment under her impatient glower. “When it comes to war,” he explained. “It isn’t always about which side walks away the victors. It was all for naught if you lose more than you gain.”

“So you can win… but still be worse off than you were before?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “And likewise, a loss can turn out to be the better outcome.”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t seem worth it, then, if nobody really wins.”

“If nobody wins,” he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Nobody loses, either.”

_...Or everybody loses._

Xion refrained from voicing her uncharacteristically pessimistic perspective. She was satisfied with his explanation and spoke no more on the subject as they traversed the perimeter of the facility, watching the sun rise. It was a clear morning, brisk and still. The air was dry and refreshing. The atmosphere was calm and quiet. It was difficult to imagine that a war would take place on those sands in just a few hours.

After their third or fourth lap around the base, Saïx slowed his pace, wincing as he stretched his joints. “I’m feeling stiff. Come, Xion, let’s warm up.”

They made their way to the training field, taking their positions and preparing to spar. He tied up his hair, revealing more of his face than Xion had ever seen. It suited his guarded disposition to have worn it the way he had — as if he were hiding himself behind the vibrant blue curtains, but his expression possessed a different quality altogether now that his entire visage had come into the light. She couldn’t quite describe it. Even with features as angular and sharp as his, he now looked much softer and more human than he had previously. She could see much more clearly defined emotions than she could before. Xion hadn’t realized that she’d been staring until he questioned her with an eyebrow raised.

“What is it?”

She quickly averted her eyes. “Sorry, I was just surprised. You look so different that way.”

She supposed that if he could laugh, that was what he might have done in response to her observation. He wore his own brand of smile — difficult to detect by the untrained eye, but plain as day to anyone who knew him. She could see the amusement in his expression, and in a way it was exhilarating to witness that brief glimpse of a lighthearted nature she’d never guess he had.

“Let’s have a clean match,” he instructed, summoning his claymore. “Fight me like you’re going to fight the Guardians of Light today.”

“But I still haven’t been able to summon my keyblade,” she protested, wary of his intimidating stance.

“Then,” she could have sworn he smirked. “You’ll have to improvise.”

On his mark, the match began, and Saïx was the first to strike. She spent the first phase of their battle practicing her defensive techniques. He would throw his blade and she would dodge it. He would send a shockwave over the ground and she would take a flying leap out of the way. He would close in for traditional combat and she would parry to the best of her ability. She wasn’t exactly fighting, but she was at least getting a decent workout.

“Is that how you plan to fight today?” he challenged her. “By just jumping around and avoiding every blow?”

“You said this was a warm-up.”

“I said fight me like you’ll fight your opponents. They’re not going to restrain themselves like I am.”

“Then stop holding back!”

There it was again — a sly but unmistakable grin. If Xion didn’t know any better, she’d say he was enjoying this. “You asked for it.”

He picked up the intensity, now throwing extra weight into every swing of his weapon. He took higher leaps and crashed to the earth with heavier quakes. Xion had to strategize, timing every dodge and blocking when she could. She searched for openings in his defenses and cast a few magic spells, hardly putting a dent in her foe’s stamina. Truly putting her to the test, Saïx performed with more elaborate combos as the fight went on, landing the occasional blow and taking a few himself in return. Even so, the battle was largely a stalemate, and after several rounds of moderate combat, Xion was too winded to continue.

“Okay, Saïx, I’m warmed up. Let’s stop.”

To her dismay, Saïx kept fighting as if he hadn’t heard her. He swiped his claymore, sending a beam of energy toward her and she jumped to the side, dodging it just before it could strike her. Before she could recover, he performed the same attack again and again, forcing her to practically fly just to avoid them. Without missing a beat, he formed a ring of blades around him and began throwing them in quick succession, leaving some stuck in the ground and others to dematerialize from thin air and reappear in his hand. She hopped in all directions to avoid them, all the while finding no opportunity for a counterattack. He was ruthless and determined, more so than she thought was necessary for just a practice match.

“I thought you said a _clean_ match!”

Ignoring her entreaties, he fought even harder, challenging her to keep up with his relentless pace. Where before he had smiled in good fun, now he was cold and robotic, staring vacantly as he attacked. He dashed across the arena, dragging his claymore heavily along his path, creating shockwaves so numerous that she couldn’t get near him. He teleported at random, surprising her with fierce blows from behind. She only caught a break when he stepped away, freezing in place and extending his arms over his head. He began to levitate above the center of the field, emanating a dark, glowing aura and appearing to transform right before her eyes. His hair burst out of its tied-up position and blew about in all directions. His coat hung askew from his beastly frame. The menacing scar on the center of his face seemed to grow and spread, developing jagged edges and deep grooves between his brows. She recognized this. It was his limit break. He was berserking.

_“I call on the moon’s pale light…”_

“Saïx, wait!”

She rushed forward and leaped high into the air, taking hold of him with her bare hands and begging him to stop. Her cries fell on deaf ears as he completed his transformation and dove to the ground with an earth-shaking crash. He wasted no time cycling through his arsenal of powerful combos, carving through the sand at incredible speed, spinning ferociously and spreading rings of energy across the field, throwing his claymore at rapid intervals, and raining blades down on his unwitting opponent faster than she could react. He stormed through the field in a rampage, roaring and chanting, shockwaves blooming from his every step. Xion could barely keep up with him. She took several painful hits, her magic spells missed nearly every time, and she was quickly losing steam. She’d never seen him fight like this. His style was almost desperate in how frantic it was.

“That’s enough, Saïx!” Xion shouted at him. “We’re just sparring!”

He didn’t respond to a single one of her pleas. He continued to throw himself into every attack until it was clear that he was wearing himself out. Sweat flooded down his face and his breaths were heavy and labored. When she could take no more, she caught one of his claymores and turned his own moves back on him, performing his final limit flawlessly. He shielded himself from the full brunt of the attack, countering with a few mean strikes of his own, but he weakened with every swing and had slowed down considerably. Matching his savagery, Xion continued to whale on him, beating him into submission with his own weapons, watching him deteriorate further and further, yet he still hung on well past the point where he should have surrendered. The battle finally came to a head when, roaring wildly, she held the claymore over high in the air and dashed toward him at breakneck speed until their weapons collided with a loud metal clang. They stood inches from each other, their blades locked, bringing the match to a screaming halt as she pleaded with him one last time to stand down.

“Saïx, stop this!” she cried. “You’re hurting yourself!”

They stared each other down, their bodies heaving with every breath. Xion could barely see him through the blinding rage she felt after such a taxing fight. Saïx had put them both at risk and he scared her half to death. She hadn’t a clue what had come over him, but she was prepared to let him have it the moment he released the berserk and would be coherent enough to understand her. After several tense seconds of silent glaring, she felt him buckle beneath the weight of their weapons. Restored to his true self, he dismissed his claymore and collapsed to the ground with a strained sigh.

“Saïx!” she knelt down to his level, extending a hand to lift him back to his feet. “Are you okay?”

He still hadn’t caught his breath. He kept his face down, almost in shame, panting heavily while beads of sweat dropped into the sand. “Xion…” he wheezed hoarsely. “Whatever happens today… You must fight with everything you have.” He raised his head, meeting her eyes with a desperate look as he beseeched her with growing urgency. “Don’t hold back for an instant. Show no mercy. Fight until your opponent is bleeding out in the sand.” He reached out and clasped her hand tightly. “Can you promise me this?”

Xion took a long look at him, and he was looking right back. His eyes were brimming with a plethora of emotions so powerful that she both questioned and admired his ability to contain them. Her throat tightened when she realized that he was staring at her with that same look on his face — the one he shared among his comrades, the one that told the story. Now, with that solemn expression directed at her, she wondered if _they_ had a history, too. She wondered if they’d been friends in the past as well. She longed to hear their piece of the story.

Sadly, without her memories, she couldn’t contribute her portion of the tale. But his eyes seemed to tell a story all by themselves. _His_ story. In the confident, almost playful grins before their match, she saw someone driven and optimistic, almost recklessly so. She saw dry humor and quick wit. She saw his heart, full and strong, and in an instant, she watched it break. She saw his pain and his rage, how he shifted into desperation as he fought to get it back. She watched him deteriorate further and further until his eventual surrender, crumpled in a heap at her feet. In that moment, she understood the arc of their battle and all the parallels therein. The images — the memories — were clear as crystal, mirrored in his every step from beginning to end. As they fought, Saïx showed her that tragic tale in its entirety, and, reflecting his pain right back, Xion felt the same deep sting in her own chest that she knew he felt in his. She might never understand how or why she had this special insight into his mind, his heart. But whatever their connection might have been, she now mourned the inevitable loss that was coming, knowing that bond would be severed mere hours from now.

“I… Yes,” she answered with a shaking voice. “Yes, I promise.”

That morning, Xion told Vexen that she felt sad. She told him that she sensed it among her comrades, and that she felt the same emotion in solidarity alongside them. She was sad for Xigbar, now so weary and jaded that he could hardly paint on the smile he used to wear. She was sad for Vexen, awash in grief and hanging on by a thread. She was sad for Saïx, having lost so much and gained so little, and now depending on her to make it all worth it in the end. She felt pity and regret for all of them, with all of them, but now, the sadness she felt was all her own.

She thought back to that morning, seeing Vexen weep over a loved one she’d never met. She recalled Saïx’s explanation, hearing the sorrow in his voice as he confessed his own loss. Vexen missed someone. Saïx missed someone. Xion supposed that she probably hadn’t left anyone behind, and considered herself lucky that she didn’t miss anyone. But just then, she understood her companions’ anguish. When the war was over, when all was said and done, when she and Saïx all their comrades were gone, she realized that she would miss him. Wherever she ended up, whatever became of her, she would miss Saïx, and that revelation left her feeling deeply, immeasurably, hopelessly sad.

* * *

The sun beat heavily on their backs as their time ran out and the showdown began. Thirteen faces hidden beneath thirteen hoods, concealed in shadow, fixing their empty gazes on the eyes of their enemies. The Seekers of Darkness waited patiently in the sweltering heat, breathing in the dry air and listening to the grating sound of Xehanort’s posturing as they obediently stood in their formation, perfectly motionless and silent. It was forbidden to speak, dangerous to think, and impossible to feel. But, despite such restrictions, they knew that this would be the last they would see of each other, and so, in their own small rebellions, they indulged in those last few moments they had together as a group. When opportunities arose, they locked eyes, expressing their regrets with passing glances and stoic nods as they dispersed to their respective arenas. Final farewells were exchanged under their breaths, nigh inaudible even to themselves. Perhaps, they hoped, it would be easier that way.

Saïx and Xion stood side by side, ready as they would ever be, waiting for their foes to come through the door at the other end of the field. The atmosphere was so quiet and so still that not one grain of sand was stirred from its place. Having the time to be alone with their thoughts was more than they would have asked for — the last thing they wanted was to invite doubts and cold feet. It was too late to be afraid, too late to change their minds. All of their preparation had led to this very moment, and there would be no turning back.

Saïx dwelled for quite some time on his training session with Xion. He’d taken it too far, gotten too emotional. When he felt himself weakening — exactly the effect he’d expected — he knew that it would only be a matter of time before she remembered who he was and what role he had played in her life before. The return of those memories would surely cause her unnecessary suffering. It might put everything in jeopardy. But in Saïx’s moment of weakness, he didn’t care. Their plan be damned, he wasn’t going to stop her from learning the truth that she deserved to know.

For all the atonement Saïx had been doing, he regretted that none of the time he’d been given was dedicated to personal apologies. There were so many people who needed to hear them — Lea, Roxas, Xion… To Saïx, it was a fitting punishment that only he could remember his crimes against her. He’d abused her out of bitterness and spite, yet she was graciously spared that lingering pain. He supposed that it was right and it was just that he was forced to recall every excruciating detail of his own cruelty every time he laid eyes on her. It was no less than what he deserved, and he was only minutes away from his ultimate comeuppance. Furthermore, even if he had the chance to say it to her face, he knew that she wouldn’t remember what he was apologizing for. He wasted energy ruminating on such sorrow, but try as he did, he could not swallow it down.

He glanced her way, finding her staring at the ground, just as deep in thought as he was. “Are you ready?”

She didn’t look up. “I don’t know.”

He admired her honesty, grateful for this last opportunity to peek inside her heart. “Are you afraid?”

Her eyes never left the ground. “Yes.”

The door creaked open and in walked Lea and Kairi, right on cue. Saïx very nearly broke under the staggering weight of the memories that flooded into his mind at the sight of his old friend. All it took was a glimpse of his face to bring it all back, just as intensely as when he’d gone to visit him at the clock tower. Upon turning the corner and finding the man hunched over in his usual spot — right where Saïx expected him to be — it was clear from his wide-eyed gape that Saïx was not the visitor Lea expected. It had been years since he’d gone to join him there. He’d almost forgotten how magnificent the view was, from the sky above to the town below. He’d almost forgotten how refreshing the breeze felt, blowing over their sweaty skin just enough to make those damned coats bearable. He’d almost forgotten what that ice cream tasted like. Salty, but sweet. The perfect contrast between two flavors at near opposite ends of the spectrum. How appropriate. It was no wonder Lea had bought three of them.

“Well, well, Isa,” he beamed smugly, jolting Saïx out of his trance. “Long time, no see!”

Lea was already babbling as he came toward the center of the field — on and on he went about how he was going to finally have his chance to clobber Saïx. How he hated the man he’d become and how he used to lie awake at night wondering what had happened to the two of them. How it felt to finally get his heart back, only to have it broken all over again. How despite everything, he still intended to drag his old friend home, kicking and screaming if he had to. Every word tugged at Saïx, sinking its hooks into him and tempting him to react. But all the while, he stood there, hardening his heart and biting his tongue. Lea deserved this moment to finally say his piece. It had been a long time coming.

“What, not even gonna say anything?” Lea sneered. “Not even a peck on the cheek for old times’ sake?”

Xion was struck with a sharp pain in the center of her forehead as soon as their foes had come through the door. She figured it was the tall man’s fiery red hair making her eyes hurt. Her head pounded so much that she could barely catch anything he was saying, but she bit her lip and didn’t complain. She could feel Saïx’s body become tense upon their arrival, and she sensed his trepidation growing with every biting word the man spat across the arena.

“Hmph,” the redhead scoffed, crossing his arms. “That’s fine. I can talk enough for the both of us. Or would you rather we just get to the beating and save the conversation for later?”

_What is he waiting for?_

Xion couldn’t fathom why Saïx had nothing to say in response to the tall man’s jeers. In all the preparations they’d done, he’d never mentioned to her just who their opponents would be. She wasn’t sure who to really expect. Knights in shining armor? Heroes with capes and masks? Villains? Thugs? She was truly stunned by the sight of an Organization coat, worn by a stranger who otherwise appeared to be a normal man with an outrageous attitude. This loudmouth with red hair spoke openly of a history between Saïx and himself — one that Xion had never been told. Maybe he was lying. Maybe he was just trying to get inside their heads and trip them up. Many times she looked to Saïx for any indication of whether or not the claims were truthful, but he kept his eyes forward, unblinking, and uttered not a word in reply.

Their opponents were coming closer and closer and Xion wondered just when this fight was going to start. The tall one was still taunting Saïx, but she could hear the same regret and sorrow in his voice that she’d heard from all of her comrades. It was clear that neither of these men were willing to land the first blow, and the more time that passed, the more she questioned if there would be any battle today at all. All of their training was to culminate in this showdown, but no one had the stomach to strike first. Saïx had ordered her, begged her to fight to the death, given her a lecture on the consequences of victory and the value of failure, only to now hesitate when the moment of truth had come.

“So, what are you gonna do?” the man asked, gesturing incredulously. “Are you gonna kill me?”

Saïx swallowed hard. Lea was practically laying out a red carpet as he handed him the floor. Hundreds, thousands of things Saïx wished he could say to his old friend bombarded him all at once. If he could say none of them at all, he wished he could at least have had the chance to sincerely apologize to the man. Or perhaps, he had all the chances in the world and never took them, whether from pride or embarrassment. Maybe he’d finally run out of excuses, and now it was too late. He stood completely rigid, grinding his teeth, watching with dismay as another opportunity passed him by. He could have said it right then and there. He could have said it yesterday at the clock tower. But instead, as the perfect intruder on Lea’s moment to mourn, dangling his feet over that ledge with two extra ice cream bars, awaiting the arrival of friends he knew would never show, Saïx appeared from thin air, seemingly just to taunt him and dance around topics the two should have discussed years ago. They reminisced. They argued. The discussion seemed to span a lifetime, tying up loose ends and digging up old ghosts, saying what needed to be said — and a few things that didn’t. Saïx remembered every one of his transgressions with perfect clarity, yet not once did he tell Lea how truly sorry he was to have made such a mess of the life they’d had. He could give the man his well-deserved revenge, but it was plainly obvious that he didn’t want it.

 _Shouldn’t you say goodbye to your_ real _home?_

Perhaps not in so many words, but Lea had done exactly what Saïx had asked. He’d answered all of his questions. He made promises he couldn’t keep. Without saying as much, he admitted that he missed Saïx, too. In parting ways with each other, they both said goodbye to the closest things they could ever have called home. And, just as cryptically, Saïx vowed to ensure that there would still be a home to drag him to. It was too short a talk, more tense and heated than he’d intended, but he could only hope that his friend would someday understand the depths of his remorse. Even though Lea might have hated every soul-crushing second of the encounter, those few minutes were some of the happiest Saïx had experienced in far too long, and ultimately, upon reflection, he could walk away with very few regrets.

_Got it memorized?_

One last time, he pulled the ice cream stick from his pocket. The one he’d taken from Lea, just to push his buttons. Just to make sure he’d be angry enough to show up today and finish his weary foe off for good. He clutched it in his fist, hidden from the view of the others on the field. For just one day, it was his most treasured possession. That tiny wooden stick housed his precious memories of the friend he would never see again. In its woeful optimism, it promised him a happy ending in spite of the fate he’d chosen, a symbol of hope in the face of despair. But as he watched his young companion trembling in her coat beside him, dutifully performing the harrowing role in which he’d cast her, Saïx knew that it was time for him to part with it. That message wasn’t intended for him. It was meant for her all along. Xion was the winner.

“Xion.”

At the sound of Saïx’s voice, Xion turned to find him holding something tightly in his hand. His hood had been raised and he kept his eyes hidden behind that black drape. He took a long look at the item in his palm, so small that she couldn’t see it. Then, without another word, he tossed the object to her. When she caught it, she discovered that it was a tiny wooden plank with rounded edges. She was about to question why he would give this to her when she noticed some writing etched into one of the flat sides. She squinted, reading the word that was printed in bold letters.

WINNER

She had no sooner read the last letter than she felt a strange warmth in her palm. There was a sudden flash of blinding light, and the heat was replaced with an intense cold. Her fingers were wrapped around something smooth, made of metal. The object was heavy, yet weightless as it hung in her grasp. She recognized that gold hilt, that silver shaft. She’d done it at last. Out of thin air, a keyblade had materialized in her hand.

The pounding in her head returned with a vengeance. She could taste the ice cream. She could feel the warmth of the sun’s rays. She could remember the anticipation, the elation. That man’s voice rang in her ears. She heard his laughter. His searing anger and wrenching sadness. She saw the boy whose face mirrored her own. The eyes that looked like hers. She knew these people. She knew the man standing at the other end of the arena. She knew the girl beside him. Hazy as the images were, this little stick Saïx had given her was full of memories. His memories. Her memories. They overwhelmed her until she felt the stinging threat of tears at the corners of her eyes.

She clutched the stick to her chest — her lucky charm. It rested safely in her pocket as she assumed her position and prepared to fight. The tall man’s voice, brimming with desperation, spoke one last time from across the arena.

“I don’t want to do this, Isa,” he said, pleading with a stone-faced Saïx. “Please, call this off. Come home.”

The man’s request was ignored as Saïx averted his eyes, wincing slightly. The silence in that moment seemed to last an eternity. Xion watched as he clenched and unclenched his fist, still wearing that pained expression. She could see that he was experiencing a rush of memories as well — memories that were resonating very deeply with him, hurting him. These men knew each other, too. They shared that look she’d seen before in the lab, the look Saïx shared with all of his comrades, with her — and in those few seconds Xion caught another piece of that same story. A happy and beautiful tale with a tragic ending, told so vividly that she could almost see it reenacted beat-by-beat inside their minds. It dawned on her then. This was the man Saïx left behind. This was the man he missed.

Although Xion could feel her heart breaking on his behalf, she had made him a promise. She wouldn’t hold back. She wouldn’t show any mercy. They nodded in unison and readied themselves for the battle. With one last heavy sigh, Saïx extended his hand, summoning his claymore and whispering under his breath so that only Xion could hear.

“I’m sorry, Lea.”

**Author's Note:**

> Exactly a year ago today, I began writing. What a journey it has been. My entire life has changed in this past year and I feel like a whole new person. I have found a new creative outlet, a deep passion that I never knew I had before. I never would have dreamed I could write, but here I am, almost 600k words strong. I can't even begin to express the appreciation I have for all who have taken the time to read the stories I write. It is my hope that my writing brings you as much joy as it brings me. Here's to many more words, many more stories, and many more years to come.
> 
> This particular piece is one I've been working on for a few weeks, wherein I formally make my prediction. When Saïx visits Axel on the clock tower, he swipes an ice cream bar, and I believe he got a WINNER stick. Go back and watch the scene -- just when Axel promises to drag him home, he takes a look at the stick, but we don't get to see what it says. ReMind comes out in just a couple of weeks. I wrote this vignette to explore some possible events we haven't gotten to see yet (taking some huge liberties here and there), and even if my headcanon is totally wrong, I hope that you enjoy the story.
> 
> Peace and Love,  
> Ostelan


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